Chapter Text
Notebook Entry #14
I had the most vivid dream about Bree. It was so vivid, I’m annoyed that I’m not sleeping. Annoyed and another emotion I refuse to write here. Honestly, I can’t believe I’m writing any of this down, but it feels important. My dreams normally fade once I’m fully awake, it’s the nightmares that stick around. And this wasn’t even close to being a nightmare, though I am tormented that it ended before it had the chance to develop into something better.
It was tangible and fantastic. Fantastic in the way that’s akin to magic. I felt it with the same intensity I can feel Nick’s mortal danger, but without the nasty side effects. I know there’s a clue in the dream. If I can write it all out, I can analyze it. Repeat it, maybe. Hopefully.
She and I were in an enclosed space. Grayish metal surrounded us. Bree looked at me through a black lace mask, the way you look at a stranger. She was in a burgundy gown, the slit in her dress was showing a delicious amount of thigh. We were talking. The conversation was tense. Her arms were crossed and the plunge in her neckline highlighted her erratic breathing. She was stunning and upset with me. (As usual.)
Bree’s heels were in my gloved hand. Then I did something unexpected: I removed the gloves, tossed her heels to the side, and pressed her against the metallic wall. Her body remembered mine and became a furnace. I kissed her. The conflict raged inside of me. The side that was angry about not letting her choose, the side that knew the alternative was dangerous, and the side that could feel her bare thigh sliding up my leg and tugging me closer. She deepened the kiss, effectively destroying my conflict and self-control. Her heat enveloped me and I started sinking. Each kiss sent me deeper, and the softness of her body dropped me straight into the ocean. I was drowning and —
a woman showed up and everything stopped.
That woman. I didn’t sense her until she was right next to us. Clearly, I was preoccupied, but there’s no way anyone could have gotten that close without me hearing them approach. Now that I’m writing it down, I couldn’t hear Bree either, or smell her root signature. Weird. I don’t expect a dream to be logical, but my demon tells me it was something more. Something ancient. Something dark. A chaotic thing. Sorcery.